Of all the high-powered dance-pop bands that make up what’s being called a new British Invasion (what is it–the sixth? seventh?), Ned’s Atomic Dustbin is the most hard-edged. What unites these bands–Ned’s, the benignly successful EMF, the more studied and intense Primal Scream, the dippy and callow Jesus Jones, and several others–is an unapologetic faith in both nuclear-strength dance music and the now almost cliched postmodernist olio of indiscriminate musical influences: classic British rock, late-60s San Francisco psychedelia, disco, 80s synth-pop. To this the appropriately named Ned’s Atomic Dustbin adds the snotty attitude and blistering instrumental attack of the class of ’77. Ned’s may be the first of what we could be seeing a lot of–a new generation of alienated teens to whom news of the Clash, the Sex Pistols, and the Damned came secondhand. God Fodder, the U.S. debut, rocks and talks harder than any of its current competitors and has more depth as well. Like true punks, the band treat the issues they sing about like they were the first to discover them–hence the sardonic battle of the sexes on “Kill Your Television,” the statement of true love on “Grey Cell Green,” and, most notably, on “What Gives My Son?,” a blast at what used to be called the generation gap. Holy moley–maybe it’s back! No word yet on the opening act. Tuesday, 7:30 PM, Cabaret Metro, 3730 N. Clark; 549-0203.

Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Steve Gullick.